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Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley


England in 1819


An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who
Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed;
A Senate, Time's worst statute unrepealed,--
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day. 

1819

Percy Bysshe Shelley


Percy Bysshe Shelley's other poems:
  1. To The Republicans Of North America
  2. To Mary
  3. Letter To Maria Gisborne
  4. Liberty
  5. To The Lord Chancellor


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